


On the Bourbon Trail

by Cornerofmadness



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Fluff, Ghost Hunters, Post-Episode: s01e20 Like Father ..., Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/pseuds/Cornerofmadness
Summary: Malcolm is in complete denial as to why his mother is now part of a trip he was taking with Gil.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jessica Whitly
Comments: 19
Kudos: 40
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	1. The Bourbon Trail

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TourmalineQueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** Not mine, Chris Fedak and Sam Sklaver owns it
> 
> **Notes:** This is written for classics_lover for the prompt of Any, any, denial, lots and lots of denial and for LizRect for a conversation we had on twitter. It also fulfills Get Your Words Out Yahtzee prompt of tinkle.

XXX

Maybe he was in denial. It wasn’t as if Malcolm was unfamiliar with the concept by any means. He had one former colleague in the FBI argue that his new surname was just one big denial of who he was. No, he knew _exactly_ who he was but why should he be forever defined by his father’s bad deeds? Malcolm liked to think he was a keen observer of human nature but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was missing something.

It had been a simple, fun idea. He and Gil on a trip, like they hadn’t done in a long while. The last time had been on the anniversary of Jackie’s death. They picked a place off her bucket list and visited it in her name. Malcolm would have taken on the entire list but Gil wouldn’t let him pay for the tickets. He knew better than to argue and insult Gil. They had tackled Wales, seeing all the castles and Neolithic sites Jackie had wanted to see. It had been wonderful, beautiful, sad, her husband and the son of her heart honoring her dream. This trip would just be happiness. This one was all for Gil and his love of bourbon. 

When Gil finally got out of the hospital and felt well enough to travel – but not yet cleared for work – Malcolm floated the idea of going to Kentucky and doing the Louisville branch of the Bourbon Trail. Gil’s dark eyes lit up like supernovas at the idea. Malcolm had begun to plan, and then suddenly he lost all control. His mother took over the reins. Why he wasn’t sure. _You know why_ a little voice whispered in his head but that steel blast door of denial slammed into place. Malcolm could not imagine his mother in Kentucky, like at all, never crossed his mind, not even for the Derby. Granted his mother had never evidenced any interest in horses. Bourbon, on the other hand, was in her wheelhouse. There wasn’t a cocktail his mother couldn’t blend with expertise. Most of the bourbon tours offered cocktail classes. He opted for zero of those. He had learned at his mother’s side during his introduction to the dating game, even before he came of age to drink. _You’ll need it someday,_ she had promised. Mostly not. He tended to fall into bed rather spontaneously, maybe have a few good nights and then lose her, whoever she was. 

It felt weird going on this trip as a threesome, like he was somehow the third wheel on his own damn trip. But who could he ask to even out the numbers? Eve was gone, and once he had gotten over the desperation of wanting someone to love, he was forced to admit that it would never have worked with Eve. She had used him to get to his father and that would always have been with their relationship like a toxin even had she lived. He couldn’t ask Dani. Okay, maybe he could have. She and Edrisa were friends. They might understand a friend’s vacation – well Edrisa might have expected more – but they were working, and he wanted distance from them at the moment. He’d been cleared of the murder charges, and his friends made it loudly known that he had been framed. His sister was off on justifiable homicide but still, there was so much ugly around him he wanted time to pass lest some of that cling to his friends and damage their reputation. He might be worried about nothing but by the time Gil was back to work – and him coming along because he wasn’t currently consulting – there would be time for any doubts to have been settled. 

So, Mother chartered a private jet for them and Gil didn’t fuss once about that. There was a time he would have. It’s not as if he and Jackie hadn’t gone on vacation with the Whitlys. However, he’d never have allowed Malcolm’s mother to pay for him before this. Something had changed. Sure, Mother had spent a lot of time in Gil’s hospital room but they had been friends and occasionally frenemies – depending on if Jessica Whitly approved of the things she suspect Gil had convinced Malcolm to do - for twenty years. Malcolm hadn’t thought much about her visiting Gil. Hell, his mother had channeled her inner Wonder Woman, popped Endicott in the head, raced out of the house and buried Gil’s newest vehicular baby into the bad guy’s car, saving Gil’s life.

Why wouldn’t she want to come with her friend on a fun trip? His mother had to want out of the house where so much blood had been shed. She needed time out of the city, away from all the memories of all the horror surrounding them. His mother needed and deserved a vacation too. It was just that he imagined she’d go to Paris or London, not Louisville. _That’s because you’re neck deep in the Denial River._

He knocked on the door to the two-bedroom suite his mother had rented for her and Gil. _Two bedroom, you hear that, brain?_ he thought. _Doesn’t mean both are being used._ He brushed the thought away. His mother originally offered to get a three bedroom one but he preferred to shield her from whatever _pavor nocturnus_ he might have on this trip. It was silly really. She had been with him and those terrors for years but it was one thing when he was twelve and another now that he was thirty. How could she rest easy and enjoy her vacation if she was worrying and being awoken by him? How could Gil? No, it was better that he was in a corner room, one floor down, with his traveling restraints and mouth guard working to block his screams if there were any. Maybe if he got good and mellow on bourbon, he’d be fine.

His mother opened the door and Malcolm blinked. He was not expecting her to be dressed down as much as she was in black cotton pants, a bright green shirt and flat, black leather walking shoes.

“Morning, Sunshine. What’s wrong?”

“You actually own flats.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Of course, I do. You said there would be walking on this trip and to pack accordingly.” She stepped back and invited him in. Gil sat at the dining table, finishing breakfast. He still looked pale to Malcolm, and he hated that. Of course, he himself had looked pale for a couple months after being stabbed but he was always on the pale side. Gil had more than two decades on him and wasn’t going to bounce back quickly from his injuries.

“Morning.” Malcolm smiled.

“Did you eat, kid?” Gil asked.

“Not as such.”

“Told you.” His mother pointed to the dining table and sat down on the nearby couch. “I ordered you a meal. Sit and eat. We’re going to be drinking all day. You need something in your stomach besides water and a piece of candy.”

Malcolm sighed, half afraid to know what his mother had ordered. First he went to the expansive windows and looked out. The Brown hotel was a Louisville classic and the views were superb. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to look at another city since he spent most of his life in big, iconic cities. Maybe Gil was right. He was a city boy at heart. He sat with Gil, and he wasn’t surprised to see that eggs benedict awaited him. He ate because his mother was right. He should have something in his belly if he was going to drink his way through Louisville. 

As they left the hotel, Malcolm noticed Gil’s hand resting on the small of his mother’s back as they waited for the Uber to take them the short mile to the Frazier museum. _There’s a hundred reasons for that_ , he thought, all of them dealing with his denial. The Uber driver seemed irritated to have such a short fare, not making any of them too inclined to tip or rate well. If it had just been him and Gil, they might have walked it or not given Gil was still recovering. The museum’s welcome center had huge bourbon barrels everywhere as decoration and the museum was cool to keep their artifacts better preserved. He didn’t mind and wasn’t at all surprised his mother was interested in the displays. She had always liked museums in his experience. 

From there they walked to Mitchner’s Fort Nelson distillery. Mother loved the pot stills that came from the original Michter’s Pennsylvania Distillery. They went all the way back to 1753. Gil had some impressive knowledge about the Whiskey Rebellion, and Malcolm thought fondly on some of the historical trips he had taken with Gil as a kid. Gil liked history and so did Malcolm. 

No one on the tour could compare to Mother though when it came to the ‘test your senses’ lab. She could sniff out vanilla and different subtle notes in all the samples on offer. She radiated happiness. Malcolm was glad she had come with them on this trip. When was the last time he had seen such a carefree expression on her face? He literally had no idea. That happiness carried through to Fort Nelson’s second story bar with its comfortable chairs and its curator who was filled to the brim with cocktail history. He and Gil had to prod his mother out of the place so they could continue on their tour.

The Evan Williams distillery gave them the fun image of the bourbon barrels being floated down the river, and by the time they were enjoying bourbon flights under the bottle chandeliers, Malcolm was feeling a little light headed already. He did not have his mother’s capacity for drink, and he probably should have skipped his meds in the morning but feared what would have happened if he had. The booze was why he was imagining the flirty glances passing between Gil and Mother, right? Right? _Just wallowing in your denial, aren’t you?_ More bourbon seemed like the answer for that. 

They had time to squeeze in one more small craft distillery before they hit the one Malcolm had wanted to do most once he realized Mother was accompanying them. He and Gil had decided to keep that secret because he knew she’d love the ‘experience’ he’d signed them up for. Relaxing over drinks after learning how coopers fired barrels for use, Malcolm sipped at his highball, hoping the ginger would keep his stomach happy. He was doing good so far and he wanted to keep that up. Gil and Mother had spiked ice teas, rehydrating some.

Mother lifted her glass. “To a nice, quiet vacation. We’ve more than earned it.”

“That we have.” Gil said.

They all clinked glasses. The ice tinkled merrily. As Malcolm drank to the toast, he nearly choked. Something licked the fingers of his other hand. He stared down right into the chocolatey mask of a huge buff colored mastiff whose long, thick tongue quested all over his hand. 

“Uh…nice…” He peered under the dog. “Girl.”

“That’s Nikki,” the bartender called. “She’s our official ambassador and loves people. If she’s bothering you, I’ll come get her.”

“No, that’s fine.” Malcolm put his highball down and pushed back a bit so he could pet the mastiff with both hands. He rubbed behind her ears. “Hello, Nikki. You’re a pretty girl, aren’t you?”

Nikki barked once in a loud, deep voice and then put both of her massive paws on his knees. Before he knew what she was doing, the hundred pounds plus of dog was in lap. His mother howled with laughter. Nikki kissed all over his neck and face and pushing on her did little to curb her enthusiasm. Gil and Mother were of no help. A realization sank into his bourbon fogged brain.

“You’re recording this, aren’t you?” he asked but opening his mouth was a mistake. Nikki kissed him right on the lips, warm wet dog tongue going everywhere.

“Would we do that, Malcolm?” His mother’s voice was as silky and smoky as the bourbon. He’d have no time to get their phones away from them before this was all over the internet.

“Yes!”

Finally he managed to convince Nikki she wasn’t a lapdog. She jumped down, kowtowed a few times to get him to play and then raced off to greet new comers. Malcolm swigged his highball letting the bourbon and ginger ale chase the taste of dog tongue out of his mouth.

“I need to wash the slobber off,” he groaned.

“Jess, what did you do on your vacation? I watched my son get eaten by the biggest dog I’ve ever seen,” his mother laughed and started Gil up.

He left them in hysterics as he went to wash up. They kept breaking into giggle fits every so often even after they left Nikki and company behind and made their way to Angel’s Envy’s distillery. Gil said he hadn’t sent the video to Dani and JT but Malcolm knew he was lying. Gil knew Malcolm knew, especially when Dani sent a selfie of her laughing her butt off to him, and he showed Gil the photographic evidence. Gil was still snickering when they were met at Angel’s Envy by their guide.

“Hello, I’m Liz, your ambassador for your experience.” The young woman smiled at them.

“I’m Gil and this is Jessica and Malcolm.”

“Nice to meet you,” Liz said. “We’re going to start with an educational tasting experience that I’m sure you’ll love. Feel free to ask questions as we go. One of the things that makes Angel’s Envy different is that the bourbon is finished in port barrels so it lends a different flavor to our bourbon, which is only done in small batches.”

They followed Liz through the distillery as she gave her spiel. The port did make a difference as did the rum barrels did for their rye. His mother’s eyes lit up when they were taken to one of the casks where three commemorative bottles and their box cases waited for them. She shot Malcolm a curious look.

“And now for the highlight,” Liz said, “You’ll get to bottle your own bottle of bourbon. I’ll walk you through how to do it.”

“Really? You two certainly know how to keep a secret.” His mother hip bumped Gil who grinned.

“Hazard of our job, Jess.”

 _Are you paying attention?_ his brain asked. Malcolm ignored it, concentrating on Liz’s lesson in bourbon decanting. 

Once they had their bourbon bottles, and Liz had deposited them in the bar for Manhattans for him and Gil and gingerbread old fashioned for his mother that smelled so amazing she went to the website to get the recipe for, Malcolm did some mental math. “How many bottles of bourbon have we sent back to the hotel so far?”

“Enough to keep us going for a long time,” Gil said.

“I promised JT I’d bring home the one I liked best for him. I think he’d like this Angel’s Envy one,” Malcolm said.

“I certainly do,” his mother replied happily.

“We’re going to be muling _so_ many bottles home on that jet.” Malcolm chuckled. “And maybe I should get the glasses for Dani. She said she didn’t want any booze but I think she’d like the angel’s wings on the glasses.”

“That’s sweet of you,” his mother said.

“And that just leaves Edrisa but I know what I’m doing for her tomorrow. And speaking of how I can keep a secret, I have a surprise planned for tomorrow night but if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to,” Malcolm said, wondering what they would get up to if he went alone. _You know_! He let denial float that away too. “But we might want to take a siesta for that one.”

Gil narrowed his eyes. “What are you up to?”

“You know how Edrisa likes ghost hunting, right?”

“I’m aware.” Gil shot him an ‘are you kidding look?’

“Waverly Hills tuberculosis sanatorium is here, and it’s on the list of world’s most haunted places. All Edrisa wanted was for me to go on the paranormal investigation tour for her, six hours of ghost hunting in an abandoned hospital. I’ll understand if you don’t want to come.”

“I wouldn’t miss it!” His mother exclaimed. 

He nearly fell out of his chair. Malcolm ordered another Manhattan. He was going to need it for this. “Are you sure? It’s going to have spiderwebs.”

“Pssst.” His mother rolled her eyes. “I’m on an adventure! Ghost hunting sounds like fun.” She exchanged a look with Gil that said things Malcolm refused to hear.

“All right then. Ghost hunting it is,” Gil said.

Malcolm had no idea what he’d just gotten himself into.


	2. Ghostbusting

Chapter Two

“Look at the size of this place!” Malcolm exclaiming taking in the enormous multi-storied red bricked hilltop structure that seemed to stretch on forever.

“I’m glad you said we’d have a lot of walking to do,” Mother replied, wearing her flat walking shoes again.

“I’m really going to hate having survived a vicious stabbing only to die of fright in this place.” Gil grinned.

“You and me both.” Malcolm touched his knife scar.

“If you do, don’t you follow me home.” His mother wagged her finger.

“All right, let’s do this.”

Malcolm had outfitted everyone with what Edrisa had given him plus worked off her suggestions. They all had three small flashlights that could fit into purse or pockets, cameras with three changes of batteries each and the same with the recorders. In the end, he had brought a messenger bag for everything because he was not about to disappoint Edrisa. Gil gathered them both in for a selfie in front of the massive structure. No doubt that was going to everyone too.

Their guide had everyone put phones on vibrate and launched into her lecture about the history of Waverly Hills Sanatorium. She threw around numbers like 180,000 square feet of structure and how it was rumored over sixty thousand people died here. She assured them that the number was much closer to five to eight thousand in a fifty year period. That was still a shocking number of people. Malcolm had never been so thankful for antibiotics. Hell he and Gil both would have likely died from their stabbings had those not existed. She told them about heliotherapy and ‘sun rooms’ where they thought the UV lamps would kill the bacteria but since tuberculous was in the lungs that seemed unlikely but what had they known in the twenties?

His mother’s face was so horrified as their guide told them of radical procedures like putting balloons into lungs and inflating them or removing ribs to allow lungs to expand – both procedures that killed more than they helped – that Malcolm had to bit his lip to keep from laughing at her. After all there was nothing funny about it other than her expression. At the body chute, originally designed for moving heat around the hospital, he was sure she was going to take the first car back to their hotel but Mother hung in until their guide cut them free.

She let out a long slow breath and turned on her flashlight. “Where to first?”

“Let’s see where the others go and then go in the opposite direction,” Gil suggested, “So we don’t accidentally hear them when we’re investigating.”

The tour size was small and that was easily done. It turned out the body chute was open as the other team headed up to the fourth floor to listen for the children at play. The chute looked impossibly dark and foreboding as they neared it. As a team they flashed their lights down it. His mother jumped back just as he saw a flash of shadow down in the chute. She grabbed onto Gil. His brain didn’t know what to deny faster: His mother acting like a horror scream queen sans scream or the fact he saw something crawl up a wall and across the ceiling.

“Did you see that creep across the ceiling?” His mother asked.

“I want to say no,” Malcolm replied.

Mother let go of Gil and crept into the chute. When Jessica Whitly said she was on an adventure, Malcolm realized she damn well meant it. He and Gil joined her in the chute. Malcolm felt a little silly asking thin air questions like ‘is anyone here?’ or ‘do you want to talk to us?’ but Edrisa would be so disappointed if he didn’t at least try for some EVPs. He wasn’t sure who’d be the first person to wet themselves if something actually answered but he was ninety percent certain it wouldn’t be his mother. A loud bang echoed up from the bottom of the chute and they were out of there faster than Scooby Do and Shaggy.

“We’ll not tell the team about that one,” Gil said, laughing once they were down the first floor corridor. 

“Not even on my deathbed,” Malcolm muttered, wondering if that might be sooner rather than later.

They went up to the fourth floor, splitting up. He went to the far end to work toward the middle, and they started near the landing. He knew little children were said to play here and what could be sadder than children dying of TB? He heard nothing that sounded like a ball being thrown, which he knew was one of the reported sounds. He took plenty of pictures and recorded a few sessions in a couple of the rooms before going to hunt down his mother and Gil after he swore he heard the sounds of someone laughing next to him and he thought it was them only to find himself very alone in the place.

Malcolm peered into one rooms on his search, spotted them and kept on walking by until he’d climbed to the fifth floor. There was no denying the way his mother had her arms around Gil, kissing him hungrily. _Nope, no more denying it_. What he needed was to process it. He loved them both. All he could ever want was for them to be happy. So why did he feel like a confused kid seeing it? Because that’s all he had wanted before Gil met Jackie? Because he had missed the signs and he was _supposed_ to be a keen observer into the human mind but was blind to what was in front of him? _Bingo_. He just hoped they remembered to turn off their recorders because Edrisa was going to get an earful otherwise.

Snickering at that thought, he turned into room 502, the old nurse’s wash room. Supposedly a pregnant, unmarried and TB infected nurse had killed herself here but there was no supporting documentation. The same went with the nurse who supposedly jumped to her death out of the window. He peered out the window and took a few pictures before thumbing the recorder back on. Malcolm didn’t buy into ghosts much – still in that river of denial – and considered it hearsay about the two nurses since there were no death records but he still asked, “Does anyone here want to talk to me? I’m Malcolm and I’m very good at listening.”

At a heavily whispered ‘yes’ and something touching his hair, Malcolm jumped. He batted at his head, feeling for spider webs or something that could have touched him. Nothing but a sudden icy mass settling on him making his arms goose pimple. Malcolm raced for the stairs and nearly collided with his mother and Gil who managed to look like they weren’t just making out like teens in an abandoned hospital room. 

“Talk about looking like you’ve seen a ghost.” His mother grinned at him.

“I might have done,” he admitted and the three of them went back to 502. 

Nothing else quite as dramatic happened except for Gil thinking something had pulled on his shirt when they went back to the fourth floor. When they finally returned to the hotel, everyone was still amped up and unable to sleep so they listened to the recordings. A laugh on his mother’s recordings unnerved them but they kept listening. Eventually Malcolm went to his room, cleaned up, strapped himself into his restraints, put in his mouth guard and stared at the ceiling. He didn’t know what was going to keep him awake longer: the idea that his mother was probably sleeping with Gil right now or the fact that on his recording when he asked someone if they were a patient here they distinctly heard a cough and someone say ‘it hurts.’

Malcolm gave up, turned on the TV and if he fell asleep, he did. If not, it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. He’d be functional for the last day of their trip which was designed as freeform, whatever trouble they could find.

XXX

“I’m sorry. Did I hear you right?” Malcolm stared at Gil and his mother over the breakfast she had ordered for him once more. “We’re going car shopping?”

“Not so much as shopping as I’m looking at a specific car. I’ve been talking to its owner for the last several days,” Gil said. “I’m taking it for a test drive and then, if I like it, which I can’t imagine not loving it, then I’ll be driving it home.”

“That’s a long drive,” Malcolm protested.

“And it’s a pristine looking 1968 Ford Mustang GT 390 CID Fastback,” Gil replied, practically drooling. “In Highland green. It’s the exact car Bullitt drove.”

Malcolm couldn’t stop the eye roll. He knew well Gil’s _Bullitt_ obsession. He also knew how much that car cost and knew exactly who was buying it. Gil must be getting comfortable with at least one of the Whitlys buying him things. “So Mother and I will be the ones lugging two ton of booze back home?” He couldn’t imagine Gil loading up that car.

“I was hoping for some company on the long drive,” Gil replied.

Malcolm shot his mother a look and she shook her head. “That’s way too many hours in a car for me and too many questionable hotels between here and New York. You and Gil were planning some man time anyhow. You go with him.”

Malcolm shrugged. “All right. Will I get to drive the Mustang?”

Gil laughed. “No. Honestly I have to be nuts to let a Whitly anywhere near another of my vehicles.”

“Hey! I wasn’t driving when I crushed the LeMans.”

“And me wrecking the replacement saved you,” his mother added in.

Gil spread his hands. “Not arguing but I’m not even sure Malcolm knows how to drive a stick.”

“I do not. You could teach me.”

“Not in that car I’m not.” Gil snorted. “You can ride shotgun.”

_Like usual_ , he thought. He could drive. He didn’t usually care to. “Fine. Let’s go see this car.”

“More like a rolling piece of art,” Gil said as Mother reached over and patted his hand.

Malcolm wondered if on the trip home Gil would talk to him about Mother. He suspected Gil would and that was okay. It was just as okay if they wanted to keep it quiet a little longer. He wasn’t going to bring it up until they did. Let them have their privacy to enjoy the new relationship. He wondered what sort of trouble he and Gil could get into on the way back to New York. Malcolm smiled at the thought. He couldn’t wait.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Notes:** Every part of the bourbon trail, with the exception of the distillery with Nikki, is real as depicted here. This was going to be one of my trips this year until the virus changed things. At least these guys got to use all my trip planning!
> 
> Every detail of the Waverly Hills Tuberculosis Sanatorium is correct to my knowledge. That includes the body chute, the sounds of children playing on the fourth floor and the details about room 502. You can hear the evps caught by Malcolm and company on YouTube by various paranormal investigators. I picked the ones I thought were great but none of them are mine.
> 
> As for Nikki, my winery here had Nikki as depicted as their ambassador (she has since passed). Nikki would always try to sit in my lap and I miss her. The winery has a wine named after her. Thanks to evil_little_dog for reminding me of her.


End file.
